The Requisite Hospital Scene
by the midnight rhapsody
Summary: It's fortunate that Barry Allen has super healing, because accidents happen, and this one really sucks, but it could have been a lot worse. It could have been a puppy.


Despite what it looks like, this isn't Barry/Caitlin. There are no pairings at all; just racing thoughts and fantasy as a diversionary tactic. I've seen a ton of stories on this site that deal with Barry being injured or otherwise out of commission; here's my silly contribution.

Warning: I totally make fun of the difference between Barry's introduction on Arrow and the pilot of this show. The musings are just there for amusement's sake, not because I'm actually going anywhere with them. Like I said, racing thoughts and diversionary tactics.

**I don't own the Flash.**

* * *

**The Requisite Hospital Scene**

It's stupid o'clock in the morning and Doctor Caitlin Snow is _not. Happy. _She's actually beautiful when she's angry, all tight lines and if you're honest, Angry Caitlin makes you revisit those weird fantasies you had about Misty Birch from English 201, with the tight pencil skirt and the paddle and that's _absolutely not _where you should be going right now, partly because it's Caitlin but mostly because of the giant _spear _stuck through your shoulder.

Your mind is racing. It's probably the pain. Actually, no, it's not the pain, it's because your brain moves quickly because your body moves quickly and you have to be able to process what it is you see at such high speeds. You should explain yourself, or at least try, but all that comes out of your mouth is, "I didn't know anyone used spears anymore."

Apparently, super thinking doesn't always lead to super intelligence. This is the point at which you should fall unconscious and have appropriately painful dreams about, you don't know, maybe high school or something. Instead, you watch helplessly as Caitlin advances on you, swabs you with something that smells like the one party you attended in college with the STEM crowd, and you wish you could be that hammered again because this is going to hurt like a –

Well, at least your brain is a tiny bit functional, because otherwise you'd be making a joke about being a screamer and you may be reckless, but you're not suicidal. If anyone actually knew half the stuff that runs through your head on a consistent basis, they'd lock you up, either for sheer lunacy or the protection of the people, and can they actually lock you up in any place other than the S.T.A.R. containment cells? Would those even work on you? You'll have to try it sometime. Sometime when everyone's feeling much more forgiving and much less inclined to actually leave you there for your own safety.

"Of all the _stupid, _ill-advised, _hare-brained…"_

"It wasn't my fault, Caitlin," you say, and you immediately know it's the wrong thing to say but you've already stuck your foot in so you might as well just follow through. "I was just running. I didn't know there was another super-strong metahuman on the loose. I thought the Arrow got 'em all last time. I guess I was wrong. I haven't been following the case since the night…I…"

Since the night you got struck by lightning. It's weird, but you feel like there are two versions of that day running through your memory, and you _know _both can't be right but Iris confirms you were with her that day and Felicity swears she saw you board a train in Starling City. Time travel is theoretically possible, even if the math isn't as sound as it should be to truly call it anything but speculation, but it's really not probable or logical that you'd travel back in time, do both things at once, and then merge with your former self but never give yourself a chance to change anything _else, _and is that even a thing?

Could merging with yourself actually work? At high enough velocity, could you just sort of break up into tiny particles and get sucked into yourself because of, say, an accident with a particle accelerator? How fast would you have to go? The known laws of physics break down beyond the speed of light, in black holes, and before spacetime. And, apparently, when it comes to sketchy inexplicable particle accelerator mishaps. You break the known laws of physics every day when you run. Wait, what if that lightning wasn't lightning – _what if it was you? _But how would that work? Would you need a soul? Are souls real? If so, with what units can you measure them, and what is their chemical makeup? Where do they reside? Energy cannot be created or destroyed, so logically, the soul would just get bigger, right? Would that make a person heavier or something? The human body isn't truly a closed system, so maybe –

Wait, wait. You're simultaneously getting a spear removed from your shoulder by a beautiful angry woman at S.T.A.R. Labs and pondering the potential mathematical principles of soul merging or time bonding or whatever. This is your life now. Seriously, what the hell.

"I'm sorry," you tell her honestly, thanking all of your nonexistent lucky stars that your brain just processes faster and only a second has actually gone by since you trailed off like an idiot at the end of your last sentence.

Then you scream, long and loud, because she's tugging and it _really hurts, _and okay she's not tugging, she's being gentle, but _dammit, _why'd the guy have to stick you with a spear? Why not a puppy or something? But that's dumb, actually, because trying to remove a puppy from your shoulder would be ten times worse, not to mention completely unsanitary, and the metacriminal would probably use puppies with rabies just to be a dick.

Wow. You've clearly moved beyond acceptable sanity levels.

"I know you're sorry," she replies after three agonizing minutes, face still pinched. You know it's because she's scared, not just of the metahumans but _for you, _and you feel sort of guilty for fantasizing about her because it's not really appropriate, even though you usually only indulge in, ahem, _adult fantasy _when you need a distraction from _horrible searing pain._ She pats your shoulder, right on your stitches. Rude. "You're always sorry. It's just that you always do it again. How are we supposed to keep you safe if you keep trying to kill yourself?"

"I'm not trying to kill myself. I wasn't even in my suit this time. I just…I like running. The way it makes me feel. The freedom it gives me. I really was just minding my own business, but then I saw the metahuman – I mean, I didn't know he was a metahuman at the time – he was going after a _child, _and I couldn't let him get away with it so I ran here, changed, and got back to him. I only wanted to scare him and save the poor kid. _I _got a spear through my shoulder, but the kid got away. So maybe it sucks that my throat is going to be raw for a while and my shoulder is still on fire and you had to come into the lab early, but that's one little girl who won't be having nightmares. So I think this is worth it. Don't you?"

Her hands are steady, but her voice isn't. "You're not invincible. Yes, it feels amazing to save people and yes, I understand that _you have to, _for whatever reason, but none of this will be worth anything if you keep running into situations without us and wind up dead. I can't…Barry, I can't let you die. And not just because you're a valuable asset to S.T.A.R. Labs, or because studying you can help change the future of medicine forever, but because you're my friend."

"I'm sorry," you say again, and despite your better judgment, you wrap your arms around her and rest your head in the crook of her neck. She smells like sleep sweat and deodorant, but you probably smell a lot worse, and yes, you'll probably regret this later. But right now, Caitlin needs a hug or twelve and you kind of want to curl up and die anyway, because _shoulder. Ow._


End file.
